


Whale-Wolf Chronicles

by EdgeLaur, windsweptfic



Series: Wolfssegner [3]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prompt Fill, Side Story, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-06-05 11:11:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15169460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgeLaur/pseuds/EdgeLaur, https://archiveofourown.org/users/windsweptfic/pseuds/windsweptfic
Summary: Canonical side stories and prompt fills for the Dishonored  Werewolf AU story, Wolfbann. Each chapter is a one-shot story. These are only in rough chronological order, but I will note where in the story timeline each chapter fits. More stories to be added as time goes on~.Co-written with Windsweptfic; the chapters she wrote will be noted at the top.





	1. Comparing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daud training the twins, on more than one subject.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set about 8 years before the actual _Wolfbann_ story line occurs.

“Try again.”

Daud watched the small whaler before him scrunch up in concentration, fist clenching and unclenching at his side. Another whaler sat atop a bookshelf about 10 meters away, watching and waiting. After a few moments, the first finally disappeared in a flurry of ash, only to appear next to the other. The second let out a whoop; the first slumped in exhaustive relief.

“Good, good, that was definitely an _improvement,_ Thomas,” Daud said, walking over to where the two young whalers were happily celebrating. The second pushed against Thomas excitedly, jostling him so hard the boy nearly fell off the bookshelf.

“Enough, Connor,” Daud growled, “You both already fall off buildings too often, I don't need Thomas breaking an arm because you _pushed_ him off.”

“Sorry, sir,” Connor replied with a nod of his head and a straightening of his back. Thomas took a second to gather himself as well, looking as sheepish as one could while wearing a whaler mask. Daud eyed him suspiciously before nodding to Connor.

“That will be enough for today; you both need your food and I've kept you long enough.” He also turned and pointed to Thomas; despite his exhaustion, the boy straightened up and gave full attention.

“Thomas. A word before you go.”

Thomas and Connor exchanged glances. Both twins, both 15; it was hard to ever see them apart, and if they did part, it was only because Daud _told_ them to.

They spent a few seconds in private, mental conversation before Daud huffed and took the liberty of expediting the process. His mind extended to theirs, mentally knocking on their twin-bonded door.

 _“I'd like to speak to him_ privately, _Connor,”_ he growled to them, and that was enough of a chastisement for Connor to finally withdraw and apologize. The next moment saw a large, lanky, golden wolf bounding off, and Thomas was left looking that much smaller without his brother beside him.

Thomas fidgeted his legs and intertwined his fingers as Daud transversed up, taking Connor's place on the bookshelf. Nervousness emanated from the teen, as well as self-consciousness.

“I promise I'm still running all the drills you ask, Daud,” Thomas started, his usually controlled tone wavering. “But Rulfio keeps looking at me like he’s disappointed, he has to go back for me on the routes because I can't keep up…”

“Today was pretty good for you,” Daud reassured but the teen huffed, body tense with emotion.

“I just don't know what I'm doing _wrong._ Connor learns everything fine, I understand the mechanics by heart, yet I can't even transverse 30 feet without…” he swept a hand out over the training room. “Without feeling utterly _exhausted._ My head aches and the Void rings in my ears and…”

Thomas trailed off, his breath heavy in his mask. Daud eyed him thoughtfully before adjusting his seat so the gap between them lessened.

“First, you can't force this,” Daud rumbled out, his own fingers linking on his lap. “If you try too hard, hold too tight, the recoil backlashes on your mind, causing the headaches.”

“I guess, but-”

 _“Second,”_ Daud growled out, and Thomas went quiet immediately. “We both know that my powers don't distribute evenly. It’s why you have Pull and Connor has Void Gaze.”

“But I should still be able to keep up with him,” Thomas interjected. “He takes to this so much easier than I do and--”

“Is he listening in?” Daud asked. Thomas jerked in surprise. After a silent few seconds, he finally shook his head. “Good.” Daud leaned in close, putting a hand on Thomas's shoulder. “Because you need to know this: _stop comparing yourself to him.”_

Thomas twitched at the hard look in Daud's eye, shaking his head.

“I don't-”

 _“You aren't Connor,_ Thomas. You also aren't his keeper. You are his brother, and even if you're twins, you each have individual talent and learning curves.” Thomas looked to protest but Daud just tightened his grip, grounding the boy.

“You need to focus on _yourself,_ Thomas. You will only fall behind more and more if you don't take care of yourself too.”

“Sir, I don't-”

“Don't think I don't know that you give more coin to Connor, more meals to Connor, give him the better sleeping spots.”

Thomas shifted guiltily. He didn't look at Daud.

“I just want him to be safe. To make sure he succeeds.”

“He can't do that if you're wasting away. He'll worry about you -- _Void,_ he already does. You aren't lonely kids on the street anymore. You're here, you're _mine.”_ His voice lowered dangerously. “And if anyone hurt your brother, they'll have _me_ to deal with.”

The surge of protectiveness took Thomas aback and he turned, gaping at Daud. Daud's resolution didn't waver, however, not in his eyes nor across the Bond linking him to all his whalers.

Relief bubbled across their mental connection. Thomas nodded, looking down to his hands as the words choked out of him.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Keep focused. Keep working. And for the love of everything go get something to eat.”

“Yes, sir.”

In a whisper of wind the boy turned wolf, leaping off to the dining hall.

When Rulfio reported back to Daud later that month, he wasn't surprised to hear of Thomas's marked improvement. He simply nodded, a small smile on his face.

He knew Thomas had it in him, after all.


	2. Thoughts about Emily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daud experiences the pain from Corvo that jolts him into action about getting Emily back to the Whalers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set before Wolfbann Chapter 4 (after chapter 1) :: written by Windsweptfic.

Daud woke to suffocating pain and a scream lodged in the back of his throat.

He jerked up violently as the vestiges of sleep seared away, clawing at the agony in his arms; thrashing enough that when he rolled over to try to get his arms under him, he tumbled out of bed and onto the ground. The ache of hitting the floor barely registered as his skin _burned_ _,_ his stomach twisting with the sick nausea of a days-empty belly.

Except it _wasn't_ , he'd eaten only hours ago--

Daud scrambled across the floor on his hands and knees and barely made it to the wastebin before vomiting.

He leaned shakily against the side of his desk as the pain flickered and vanished, gone as abruptly as it arrived. But the pounding in his temples remained, whispers from a now-familiar voice echoing in his mind as a damning testament to his greatest sins.

 _It hurts,_ the voice moaned, agonized and grief-stricken. _It hurts, it hurts it-- Emily, where is Emily--_

"I'm sorry," Daud rasped to the empty room. He squeezed his eyes shut against the guilt digging its claws into his chest, swallowing down bile and regret as a worry that wasn't his own threatened to consume him. "I'm _sorry."_

_Emily. Is she-- Is Emily safe, is she-- Emily-- Emilyemilyemily--_

"Emily," Daud repeated, in both acknowledgement and agreement. He scrubbed a shaking hand over his face, leveraging himself up enough that he could slump in his chair. There were bounty posters and maps scattered across his desk and he shoved them all out of the way, reaching instead for the blueprints of the Tower.

He rested his palm over the room that would house the late Empress' young daughter, closing his eyes and struggling to hold onto the pieces of himself that threatened to be swept away by the tide of emotions that didn't belong to him.

He was damned to the Void and back for what he'd done, for the life he'd taken and the man he had condemned to a fate worse than death, but this--

This, he could do.


	3. Hide-and-Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily plays hide and seek with the Whalers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set before the events of Chapter 6

Emily uncovered her eyes, looked around, and screamed.

“Ready or not, here I come!”

There was a rustle of wind around her in the open space of the mess hall, but as she looked, nobody showed themselves. Not a whisker, not a hair. She grinned broadly and set off.

She was going to be Empress one day. And she planned on having a spotless hide-and-seek record by the time she got there.

Corvo always played with her, but Corvo was _good._ Not just good; _the best._ Corvo was the one who taught her how to sneak and hide and become invisible. So when the Whalers agreed to hide and to seek, they didn't know what challenge they were setting up for themselves.

She started with the basics Corvo had taught her on seeking; check all blind spots and visual obstructions. Then from there, work out and grow the search area. Listen for breathing; double back to the starting point. Check ceilings, check vents. Anticipate where to hide, catalog it for later.

And most of all, be sure to be sneakier than the hiders.

It wasn't long before Emily was finding wolf after hunched wolf, much to the surprise of the individuals who had chosen to indulge her. Their lanky bodies had the advantage of mobility, but not in breathing or hiding. One by one she called them out, and eventually all five whale-wolves were disgruntled and accounted for.

“Okay, you guys know what happens now,” she said, and Galia and Rinaldo exchanged nervous glances. “The one I found first is the seeker. Which means _I_ get to _hide!”_ She rocked on her shoes, clapping excitedly. She wore a small jacket and pants instead of her usual tower clothes; she insisted on the brown leather, saying it'd make her harder to find.

“So who got found first?” Devon asked, looking at the others. Sheepishly, Connor raised a hand, and Rinaldo coughed out a laugh.

“What, did you _let_ her find you?”

“Of course not!” Connor said, shifting his feet while his twin just sighed and shook his head. Next to him, Galia huffed, crossing her arms.

“No fair; Connor can see through walls.”

“No powers then!” Emily said, to which Connor protested and the others agreed.

“Can I still smell around, at least?” He asked, _pleaded._

“You can be a puppy, but no peeking!” She squealed, her grin toothy. “Count to sixty and close your eyes. Ready, and go!”

Emily dashed away as the other Whalers smoked off, wolven bodies disappearing around corners and down hallways. They had promised to stick to the original building, but there were a lot of levels. Emily trekked down multiple flights before finally finding what she wanted; a muddied puddle of standing water. She grinned and eyed the brackish water before carefully slipping in, taking a dip, and then crawling back out in a hurry.

Rule number one of hiding: make oneself invisible. And what better way of being invisible to wolves than dirty, smelly flood water?

She ran up three more flights of stairs until she finally stopped dripping. With seconds to spare, she found an old vent to climb into. It was dank and the smell of old seawater and fish clung to her and her clothes, but this was _the best_ hiding spot. She was sure of it.

The seconds passed; Emily hunkered down, controlling her breathing. Every now and then, she heard a heavy body move past; she'd tense up, covering her mouth until the seeker moved on. She had to suppress her laugh every time. They couldn't find her! She was going to win for sure.

The minutes stretched on. Emily shifted, carefully, trying to get comfortable. She was starting to get sweaty; the vent was tight, her clothes reeked of old water, and she was _tired._ And lonely. Her thoughts strayed to Corvo, what he would do if he was here. _He_ would have found her by now, he was the _best,_ after all. She chewed her lip, the tears welling up.

It had been a month. And she was _still_ in hiding. From him; from everyone.

_When was he going to find her?_

She lost track of time long before those strong, steady hands were pulling her out of the vent and into the light. She gasped in surprise, thinking for a delirious moment that _Corvo has come for me --_ just to come face to face with the bristling, scowling image of Daud himself. She blinked up at him owlishly and his nose wrinkled at the scent of her. Teeth long and bared, he turned his furious energy to the five whalers standing stock still on the other side of the room.

“Our one job is to _keep her safe_ and you all manage to lose her while playing _hide-and-seek?!”_ His anger dripped off every word, rippling through all of them. “What do I pay you for _\-- train_ you for -- if a _child_ can outwit you?”

All of them shifted, guilty. Emily looked between them, breathless.

“How did you find me?” She gasped out, limbs shaky. Daud turned to her and sniffed.

“You covered your scent well, but you used a strong, pungent odor that was out of place here. I followed that scent and found you, something these _imbeciles_ couldn't do.”

The five of them bowed their heads. Emily worried at her lip. She tugged at Daud's arm.

“Did I get them in trouble?” She whispered. Daud sighed, his sharp features softening around the edges.

“No, but you _did_ expose a weakness in my training, which means I need to write up a new drill, one _all_ of these idiots will be taking.”

The collective groan was powerful enough to get Emily giggling. Together, they all headed back upstairs, where they debated on how Emily was going to get _bathed._

The whole way back Emily didn't let go of Daud's jacket. She tugged at Daud's shirt again, grabbing his attention.

“Daud… Does this mean I _won?”_

The bark of laughter from Daud was enough of an answer to have Emily grinning triumphantly for the rest of the night.


	4. Seeds of Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billie and Galia have a conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The timeline on this chapter is a bit vague, but mostly it's somewhere before Galia gets attached to Emily, during the few months before Corvo gets out of prison, but obviously after Daud has introduced Emily to the other Whalers. I also needed to sort of frame up Billie's state of mind since she'll be important to the later half of _Wolfbann_. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this little tidbit, with two very different takes on how Daud is handling his royal problem.

“This whole stunt has been doomed from the start.”

Galia bristled, turning too sharply towards her companion. The figure in red, clad in a heavy mask and a heavier disposition stood just a few meters to her left, arms crossed while looking down on the city streets below. Dunwall was experiencing a surprisingly bright night, though it wasn't at all festive; in the wake of the Empress' death, the electric and terrifying Walls of Light were being erected all around the major provinces, acting as check points for entry and exit. The eerie blue of their sinister lightshow reflected off of her superior's mask, the glass of the eyes shining in the dark like those of a predator. Not for the first time, Galia was glad for her own whaler mask currently hiding the deep scowl playing on her lips. 

“The plan isn't a stunt, Billie. Daud knows what he's doing.”

Billie huffed, her long mask dipping slightly, looking all the more like her lupine face than anything remotely human.

“Galia, your blind loyalty to our master is  _ commendable, _ but misplaced. Taking coin to kill an Empress is one thing, but stealing her daughter? Keeping her captive? Daud is beckoning the Fates for our destruction, not our salvation.”

Galia’s unseen scowl deepened further, the leather of her gloves straining against a clenched fist. 

“If you're so worried, why don't you talk to  _ him _ about it? You're one of the few he will listen to, see reason from.” 

“Because…” Billie started, but trailed away as she tensed, carefully watching a City Watch officer break off and veer down an alley towards their position. Without a word spoken between them, the two assassins disappeared, leaping through ash and Void to a new vantage point. Billie kept an eye on the officers, dropping her arms as she walked the rooftop. 

“Because I do not think Daud is of sound mind. I think he has fallen off the wagon, so to speak. The child is-is  _ dangerous. _ He spends too much time in her company, we all do-- can you not feel the pull she exerts on all of us?” She shook her arms out, as if disturbed by her own words, pacing like a caged dog. 

Galia gaped at her, hardly moving. 

“The child. A girl of not even ten. You think  _ she _ is dangerous? Are you  _ mad?” _ Galia tossed her head, disbelieving. “She may be royalty, yes, but there is  _ no one _ looking for her in the weeper-filled Flooded District, no one stupid enough to try and get her there, with all our traps.” 

“It is not what she attracts that I fear, but what she's doing to us, to  _ Daud. _ I don't trust this, I don't trust  _ her.” _

Billie squirmed. She bristled. She paced and huffed and growled with a barely restrained venom in her voice. There was no concern there, only paranoia and anger and  _ fear. _

Galia laughed. 

Billie swiveled on her heel, glaring as best she could through the leather of her whaler mask, snarling through the ventilator. 

“What?” Billie demanded. “What is so  _ funny _ to you? The destruction of the Whalers, of all of us? Be out with it!”

Billie was Galia's superior, so much so that she was Daud's second, his  _ heir.  _ Which only made Galia shake her head, laughing all the harder. 

“Outsider's ass, Billie,” Galia sneered. “You're jealous.”

Billie stiffened, her arms jerky at her side, her hands balling into fists.  _ “What?”  _

Galia knew she shouldn't push it. She shouldn't, because Billie was a powerful Bonded, taking to Daud's magic better than any of them. She nearly had the power to push Galia over with her overwhelming magical energy alone. 

But Galia didn't see a superior before her now. She only saw a child, a  _ whelp, _ an upset teenager pouting over a lost game.

“You're mad that Daud is giving the girl extra attention, especially since she wasn't supposed to end up with us in the first place,” she rationalized, pointing a disbelieving finger at Billie all the while, “You're scared she'll never go back to the tower, you're nervous Daud knows she has innate talent and she'll outshine you one day as heir and assassin apprentice.” 

Every explanation made Billie more tense. Galia could see the smoke billowing from her frame as she fought to remain calm and human. The boiling anger bleeding over their mental connection told a similar emotional tale.

“How dare you accuse me of something so-so  _ petty _ as--” 

“Is it not true?” Galia asked, arms open and incredulous. “Children are not dangerous, only their  _ potential _ is. She has the potential to be something great, someone  _ greater than you,  _ and that scares you. Doesn't it?”

“Nothing scares me,” she snarled out, body stiff, words surgical. “I was built to destroy threats. And if she threatens the existence of the Whalers, I'll do what I must.”

“It is  _ Daud _ who will make that call, not you.”

“Daud knows nothing because he is  _ lost!” _ Billie shouted back. Galia flinched and Billie's head dipped, her voice going soft. “You cannot tell me you don't feel his turmoil.”

Galia faltered, biting at her lip, and Billie sent affirmation across their bond. 

“Yes, you do feel it,” Billie breathed out. Galia twitched, going silent. She was never one to speak ill of their Master, of  _ Daud,  _ but it was true; Daud's thoughts had been closed off and hidden, and whenever she caught a glimpse of his mental state, it was overtaxed and over-strained. Her instinct was always to reach out, to mentally offer a lifeline of reassurance, but Daud was not sentimental. If anyone got suspicious, he closed up again, tight as a river krust. It left her worried, confused, agitated.

What's worse is that all her doubts were now loud and clear across the bond with Billie, and she was reading each and every one like an open book. 

_ “Please, _ Galia,” she said,  _ pleaded _ . “I'm saying this to try and help, so of course I cannot say anything to Daud,” Galia's head swam, her nose and sinuses filled with the stench of roses. She shook herself, fighting off the instinct to sneeze. “I've even cut him off for now, because I can't be sure of how sane he really is, not until I can figure out what's going on. If you do too, it could help to understand, to get to the bottom of this.”

Billie took a step towards Galia. It made sense. It  _ sounded _ reasonable. And yet…

“I'm sorry, Billie,” Galia finally said, as the lights below illuminated them both in sickly blues and yellows. The red of Billie's coat burned, hot and cold, while she stopped and stared blankly at Galia from behind her mask. “I won't tell Daud, because maybe-  _ maybe, _ you are right.” She took a shaky breath, straightening her back. “But I cannot doubt Daud so easily or block him off without reason. I have to see this through.”

Billie was silent for a time, weighing her responses. Finally she nodded, curt and professional. The link between their minds was severed so harshly that Galia stumbled from the mental whiplash.

“Hopefully such a lapse in judgement will not come back to haunt you,” Billie sneered, cheekily transforming to her lupine form. The ruddy fur flashed yellow and blue, teeth glinting like the crackle of the electricity flowing below them. 

“Same to you,” Galia nodded, but if Billie heard her, she didn't know. The wolf was already bounding off, leaving Galia to deal with the lingering smell of roses and the sharp prickling pain settling on her mood like thorns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not that I don't receive encouragement now, but if people want to send prompts or ideas to my inbox, feel free to do so over at <http://laur-rants.tumblr.com/>. Until then, look for more chapters soon! Love you all, muah.


	5. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily has a nightmare while with the Whalers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set before chapter 6, but after the hide-and-seek incident.
> 
> Warning: Mentions of child death.

Emily was losing track of the days. 

Really, she tried not to think about it. When you're nine and among huge whale-wolves of folklore, it was easy to be distracted most days. The old Rudshore District they resided in was also giant maze of flooded passageways and collapsed hallways and river krusts lurking in unsuspecting places. Emily did her best to search out every nook and cranny; an effort that got her into trouble those first few days. She would wander too far only to have shadows descend; the Whalers would be there, telling her off or scooping her up and taking her back to Daud. She complained at first, until Daud took her upon his own huge furry back, carting her off show her the weepers lurking on the territory periphery, waiting to spread the plague and attack anyone dumb enough to stumble upon them.

She didn't try to wander far after that; and if she did, it was always with an escort. So her days were filled with searching the Whaler hideouts, spending the days with her favorite pups, and having freedoms within the necessary bounds. 

But late at night, she would lay there, staring at the stars, biting back every instinct to cry. Most nights she remained quiet. Most nights, she kept controlled. 

Tonight was not one of those nights. 

Tonight, there were no stars in the sky. 

Emily woke up crying. It was such a startle that once she realized it, she couldn't stop; the crushing weight of her dreams leaking into reality and leaving her overwhelmed. Shoulders shook and her breath came in short gasps. Under her, a body shifted and she twitched, moving to steady herself against the large, warm mass that rolled over. 

A brown eye focused on her, blinking away sleep. A pink tongue rolled out to wet a dry nose and a soft, feminine mind brushed up against hers. 

_ “Little one.” _ Galia’s soft, tired tones filtered through the turmoil left behind by Emily's nightmares. Emily gripped the Whaler’s fur tight; Galia moved her lupine body to better face the young Empress-to-be.  _ “What is it? I'm here.” _

The soft humm of reassurance vibrated through Galia’s chest and in Emily's mind, sounding almost like a lullaby. It reminded Emily so much of her mother that she only sobbed harder, burying her face into Galia's light grey fur. Startled by the renewed wailing, Galia shifted; a large, wet nose shoved its way into Emily's hair, and a tongue darted out, cleaning her face and hair of tears.

Emily jerked and sputtered; the grooming didn't stop. Hot breath blasted from Galia's huge nostrils, blowing Emily's hair back. She shrieked and giggled through quieting sobs, the salty tears lapped up before they could even fall. 

Eventually, Emily’s complaints were too vocal; she turned her head, pushing her hands out to hold Galia's nose at bay. The huge wolf blinked at her, studying, waiting for Emily to calm down. 

“What was that for?” Emily hissed, grinning despite her chastising tone. She wiped her face dry, cheeks sticky with saliva. “Gross!”

Galia watched her carefully. _ “Well, it got you to stop crying, didn't it?” _ The voice brushing against her mind said, her lips pulled back to reveal a toothy smile. Emily curled her own lip and pushed the snout away just as Galia huffed out a wolfish laugh.  _ “Are you feeling better?” _

Emily shook her head, shrugged her shoulders. She pet Galia's light strands to occupy her attention.

“I dunno. It's okay though. You can't fix it. And it was a dream anyway.”

She missed Corvo. She missed her mother. She didn't even know how many days it had been, she wasn't good at keeping track. She just...she just…

Tears threatened to spill over again. Galia sensed this, shoving a supportive nose under Emily's chin.

_ “Young Empress,” _ she purred.  _ “Talk to me.” _

“Do you know how long I've been here?” She asked, trying to sound nonchalant. The large body sighed, deflating.

_ “It will be the Month of Rains in a week or so,” _ she confided, voice quiet even over the mental connection. Emily took a shaking breath. 

“I just-- miss them.” 

_ “I know, little one.” _

“What if Corvo never comes?” She blurted out. “Daud promises and promises but Corvo is in  _ prison _ and nobody gets out of prison,  _ nobody.” _

_ “Daud doesn't tell me a lot of things,” _ Galia confided.  _ “I'm not as special as the twins, or as high-ranking as Billie, or as old as Rulfio. So I don't have those answers… but I still trust in Daud.” _

“How??” She cried. “How do you know-- how can  _ I _ know he's right, or--”

Galia shoved her head against Emily, cutting off her scared rambling. After a moment of being enveloped in smoke, Galia’s human body sat down next to her, short blonde hair pulled back, night shirt and pants hanging loose, brown eyes tired but understanding. She pulled Emily close; she snuggled in, enveloped in her warmth.

“It's not about being  _ right, _ necessarily. Daud isn't always right. He makes mistakes. He miscalculates. But he also knows what's best, and has powerful instincts.” She ran a hand over Emily's head, smoothing the strands. “He found me when I had nothing. Now, I am something, not just a teenage mom with a starving child and a horrid father and no future to look forward to.”

Emily turned her head up. “You were a  _ mommy?” _ She breathed out. Galia just nodded, face hard. 

“He didn't make it.”

“I'm sorry,” Emily whispered. Galia smiled a small smile. 

“It's okay,” she said. “It happens. It's a miracle I didn't die too. And Daud helped me get back at...get better.”

“Did you kill whoever killed your baby?”

“Yes,” Galia breathed out, teeth gnashing protectively. “Yes I did. He was a terrible person who deserved to know my pain.” 

“Good,” Emily said, squeezing Galia tight The young Whaler hugged back, claws digging in lightly as if to never let go. 

They stayed huddled together for a good while; Emily drifted against Galia, listening to her heart beat and her breath rise and fall. Galia continued to pet her head, humming softly. She shifted Emily back down, helping her tuck back into the makeshift mattress. 

“Galia?” Emily asked sleepily. 

“Yes, little one,” she whispered back.

“Will Daud help me get back at whoever killed my mommy, too?”

Galia’s hand stilled for only a moment before settling back onto Emily's shoulder and giving it a squeeze. 

“Yes, Emily,” she said, voice low and sharp. “Daud, me, and all the rest. We will  _ all _ help tear down who ripped your mother from you. That's a promise.”

Emily smiled. She settled back down, mind drifting.

“Thank you,” she breathed out, dropping off to sleep. Galia pulled the covers up close, silent tears glistening on her cheeks. 

“Of course, Empress Emily.”


	6. Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas wasn't happy about Connor's little stunt with Corvo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set almost immediately after Chapter 9. Written by windsweptfic.

The twins were fighting. 

It wasn't the first time, and if Rulfio knew them--which he  _ did _ _,_ because he'd helped raise the two little shits--it certainly wouldn't be the last. At least everyone knew by now to just avoid them; the training room had cleared out as soon as the first punch landed, mere seconds after a waterlogged Connor walked into the room.

Rulfio had needed to shoo a couple of the novices away, but after that he'd just settled down on one of the rafters to observe. 

The brothers were matched in every manner, which always made their brawls just an exercise in who slipped up first. Blows were blocked, attacks were dodged, tricks were spotted. Maneuvers that had worked on Daud himself were countered without any kind of conscious thought. Thomas had perfect technique and sharp, flawless reaction time, but Connor had a bit of a wild edge to him: reckless and volatile in a way that could be hard to predict.

Usually, at least. When a spinning backfist laid Connor out across the floor and he didn't get back up, the yield was obvious.

That didn't stop Thomas from stalking over and straddling his brother's waist, grabbing the lapels of Connor's jacket and yanking him up to glare at him from inches away.

"Don't you  _ ever  _ fucking do that again," he snarled. "You dumb bastard, you almost got  _ killed-- _ "

"I really didn't--"

"Stop!" Thomas snapped, tugging on Connor's coat like he could shake some sense into him. "Just. Fucking stop. You were outmatched and alone and you could have  _ died  _ and I almost  _ lost you _ \--"

Rulfio tilted his head to one side, lifting his brows at the way Thomas' voice cracked. The twins weren't strangers to near-death experiences; even close shaves had only ever left them clingy and inseparable for a while.

Connor reached up with a frown, curling his fingers around Thomas' shoulder.

"Thomas? What happened?"

Thomas' shoulders  _ shook _ , and Rulfio had to glance away, because the young lieutenant never had liked showing emotion in front of others.

"I felt it," Thomas rasped. "I felt it when he-- He was in your head, his mind was pushing out your Bond to Daud and I-- Connor, _ I couldn't feel you. _ "

Then Rulfio's eyebrows shot to his fucking hairline, because so far they'd only ever interacted with Granny Rags, and Daud had  _ never  _ said anything about other Marked being able to affect the Bond in any way. He didn't know if Daud even realized it was possible himself, but--that was concerning on far too many levels. And it was something that needed to be addressed  _ now _ .

Rulfio rose to his feet, glancing back down at the twins as he pulled the Void to his fist. Connor had his arms wrapped around Thomas' shoulders, his brother's face pressed into his neck, and when he saw Rulfio shift their eyes met. Connor's features were twisted in guilt, in remorse, and after a moment he inclined his head in reassurance. 

Rulfio nodded back and transversed away. 

They would be alright.


	7. The Threat of Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A precursor side-story for Chapter 13 of Wolfbann, where we see a brief glimpse of how the twins are doing holding down the fort.
> 
> Thomas and Connor having a chat about Corvo while waiting Daud to get back with Emily. There are also hints of Corvo/Daud in the conversation.

Thomas circled his Master's office, carefully tracing a path, gloved hand gliding over shelves and desks and papers with near reverence. He frowned, trying to hone his thoughts onto the one who lived here, tried to find the mind that belonged to this space, but again he came up with nothing but empty Void.

Daud was beyond his mental reach. Or, more likely, something was blocking the connection, causing constant dead-ends. Thomas sighed. It was… _unnerving_ to not feel the weight of Daud in his mind, pulling him towards the huge wolf like a magnet-- but he shook off the unease. It was probably just witch magic. Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.

It wasn't as if the _Royal Protector himself_ was laying on a cot three levels down and one building over.

Sure, Corvo wasn't as well as he could be, but the injuries he'd incurred didn't do a thing to improve the man's mood. If anything, they just soured his already fuming temperament into a coagulated mess of pain and emotion.

Thomas sighed again. Really, it could be worse, but the truth still stood.

Corvo had _no idea_ what he'd gotten himself dragged into.

A warm, inviting whisper tickled at his ear; Thomas looked up through the hole in the roof, seeing the silhouette of his brother. He transversed up: in a flurry of Void ash he appeared next to Connor. His twin tilted his huge, golden furred head in greeting. Connor was laying at the edge of roof, paws politely brought together, his gaze fixed on the far horizon. Thomas followed his twin’s line of sight; it led out to the greater part of the Wrenhaven, out where Daud and the other Whalers were off rescuing Emily Kaldwin.

 _“I told the others,”_ Connor relayed to Thomas as his brother settled down next to him, legs hanging off the side. Carefully, Thomas removed his heavy mask; the cool air hit his face like it always did -- a biting kiss he was never prepared for. _“They didn't seem very surprised, but there was definitely an urgency underlying their thoughts. I wonder if things are going alright.”_

“Any word from them on Billie, or Daud?” Thomas asked, his fingers disheveling strands of dirty blonde. “I can't reach him no matter how hard I try.” Connor's ear twitched, and he shook his head.

_“It's the same for them as it is for us. Wherever Daud is, he is blocked from us. Probably witch magic to stop him from calling backup.”_

“Sounds reasonable.”

Connor hummed his agreement. Thomas flipped his mask in his hands, the only outward sign of his inner agitation.

 _“She'll be fine,”_ Connor reassured him after a time. _“There's no reason to doubt her, or Daud.”_

“At this point, it's not her I'm worried about,” Thomas said, though his twin's knowing gaze saw through his half-truth. So he did his best to change the subject entirely. He motioned his head down and over; Connor's gaze followed, looking in the same direction. "How is _he_ doing?"

Connor grimaced, lip curling enough for his fangs to show their displeasure. His sharp nose snorted, and he licked it back down into submission.

 _“He's just a mess,”_ Connor said, and Thomas clenched his jaw. _“His thoughts are turning, he can't fixate.”_ Connor's ears laid back and his feet twitched, readjusting. _“It's like he's still caged, and his mind is just trying it's best to reach out from between the bars.”_

Thomas sighed, his face set even though his mask continued to turn in his hands. Tentatively he reached his own mind out to Corvo, much like one would to a wounded hound if they were scared of the animal biting.

The even rhythms told him Corvo was asleep, but that was the only solace of the man's mind. It was a storm of thoughts and emotions; everything twisted around and in on itself, like a great, flailing serpent. Every now and then his mind _tried_ to reach for someone else, even _eased_ at the sensation, but then he was coiling back in, thrashing, and Corvo would turn in his sleep, fitful.

“He's going mad,” Thomas concluded. “Even with the Mark on his hand.”

 _“Come on, Thomas,”_ Connor scoffed. _“Look at Granny. We both know the Mark doesn't cure madness, it probably_ encourages _it.”_ He paused for moment, expression sobering. _“Some of it is self-inflicted. Some of it isn't. I can't be sure.”_

“He still hates us. He wants to connect so badly but he doesn't know why.”

 _“It’s something only Daud can fix,”_ Connor said, and Thomas agreed. _“I'm… worried about what will happen if Corvo refuses him, too.”_

“He won't be able to, I wager,” Thomas mused. “Daud can be very persuasive.”

Connor laughed, the sound a huffing, barking thing out of his heavy jaw.

_“You think a single punch will fix everything, or a single kiss?”_

Thomas groaned, running a hand over his face while his brother laughed like a damned Pandyssian hyena. “Somehow, I think if Corvo knew about Daud's _crush_ it would just make things that much _worse.”_

A _“_ crush.” _Spirits,_ it was so juvenile to think about but there was no other word for it. When Daud had let the Whalers back in, they _all_ felt it, they all collectively _knew,_ but they were all wiser than bringing it up to Daud straight.

There was a deeper connection between Corvo and Daud than even the old assassin was willing to admit to just yet.

 _“If Daud comes back with Emily safe, it might not matter,”_ he said solemnly. Then, the mischievous glint returned to his eye. _“Maybe none of it will matter. They'll leave and we'll be dead because Corvo killed us all, and he'll try to forget that he, the Royal Protector, is a Turned wolf whose mind is deteriorating at a dangerous pace that only Daud could've fixed, while living next to the young Empress, putting her in harm's way every passing day until finally--”_

Thomas fixed him with a deadpan stare.

“Why do I have a feeling that it's definitely _not_ going to go that direction?”

 _“Oh come on, what a fun timeline_ that _would be,”_ Connor told him, grinning broadly. _“Dunwall: the Bad Ending.”_

“And you're a bastard all the more for even thinking it into existence.”

Connor huffed out another laugh as Thomas smacked him with his mask. They spent the rest of the time in companionable silence, leaning on each other, watching the water and waiting out the day and the hopeful return of Emily and Daud.


	8. Pet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, whatever happened to Havelock?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place right before the cold open of Chapter 14, where Emily talks to Daud on the ship.
> 
> This chapter is rated M (not enough for me to raise the overall rating I don't think) as there's definitely an _implication_ there that isn't hard to parse out.

“Thank the Outsider's ass you made it back to the boat,” Lizzy told Daud as they descended below deck. Up above them the Whalers kept watch on Emily as well as the waters, which now swirled ever dangerously as the boat lurched back towards Dunwall. Daud ducked below a low-hanging pipe, following Lizzy down the stairs towards the Captain's Quarters. “Not that it would have been any water off my back. Your dogs may have had a hard time of it though.”

“I hope you would have left them to go their own ways once you hit Dunwall,” Daud mused, “but something tells me you don't let such easy prey walk without making it worth your while.”

“You know me and my Eels too well, Daud,” she laughed, “one would think you spy on my little boat, hmm?”

“Hardly,” Daud said as they stopped outside her quarter doors. He turned to her, expression growing dark. “But I'd rather my men be given more dignity than  _ he  _ was.”

Lizzy pouted, her lidded eyes going sad and her bottom lip puffing out. 

“Now Daud, where's your sense of fun?”

“Open the door, Lizzy,” he rumbled out, his voice rough with barely checked aggression. Lizzy remained unbothered but did as told. She swung open the door, the smooth motion preceded by the squealing of hinges.

Inside the room a figure jerked; a  _ large _ figure, one that nearly took up the space where he sat in the corner. Chains clinked as he adjusted and his eyes looked fearfully between the two people standing there. 

“Is it true? Did you manage it?” He rasped out. Lizzy hissed, raising a lip, and the voice died down. 

“Nobody asked you,  _ Havelock,” _ she sneered before swaggering an amused look back at Daud. He didn't return the sentiment, standing as severely as before. Lizzy shrugged at his stoic display, crossing the threshold to her quarters, Daud following after. He eyed Havelock carefully; the man used to be an astute member of the Royal Navy -- an admiral, even -- but he was discharged from his position once he refused to sail under the Lord Regent's colors. After that, he dropped off the map. Some say he tried to get into pirating. Some say he died. Looking at him now, chained down here with a huge leather collar around his neck, Daud couldn't help but wonder if he didn't end up somewhere in between. 

Perhaps death would be preferred over becoming Lizzy Stride’s personal trophy.

Havelock's head hung low and he stretched away from Lizzy as she approached his seat. She gave his bald crown a small pat before smacking him on the cheek. 

“Oy. Go get us some drinks, ya salty sea wannabe.” She sneered at him, pulling his ear until he finally made for the door, righting his shirt before walking out to the kitchen and going to grab what she asked for. Daud curled his nose at her while she just grinned her toothy grin back. 

“What, you don't think a man in his position was given  _ dignity, _ Daud?” She said, leaning over her desk to find a piece of dried jerky to chew on. “He tried pirating these waters,  _ my waters,  _ and you think he was going to get off without punishment?” She shook her head, leaning against the old wooden table, chewing on her strip of whale fat. “Thought he could just walk onto a boat and command it like it was the fucking royal fleet. Thought he could save the Isles by sea. Outsider's balls, he's a stupid one.” She laughed, a small, rolling sound that left her like the crashing tide. Then she turned to Daud, shaking the dried meat his way.

“So what's  _ your  _ plan, Wolf Man?” She asked, before pulling another chunk of fat, her teeth tearing the jerky with each bite. “Just getting safe passage to where the Protector waits to kill you? Nice knowing the Whalers.”

Daud breathed, looking over a stray document on Lizzy's table. “I have a feeling Attano will keep me alive for the time being. I have a weapon against Burrows, one he'll be interested in and hopefully willing to talk about once Emily is safely back with him.”

“You have a way of dealing with Burrows?” A heavy voice asked. Daud raised an eyebrow and turned; in the door frame, the shadow of Havelock stood, gaping at Daud, the tray of tea and whiskey wavering in his hands. 

_ “Farley…” _ Lizzy started dangerously, but it was too late. Havelock surged forward, setting the tray down and grasping for Daud's lapels. Daud snarled, lip curling as Havelock’s wide, bloodshot eyes met cold blue ones.

“Take me with you!! I want to see that man destroyed more than anything!  _ Anything! _ I was loyal to Jessamine and now I'm here and unable to do anything…!”

“I can't, even if I wanted to,” Daud growled, voice low. “You belong to Lizzy.” 

The statement left Havelock frantic and terrified. His eyes watered and he cried. 

_ “Please! _ Please, I beg you, let me help you put Emily on the throne I'll do whatever it takes,  _ plea--” _

Lizzy smashed a wooden pole into the meat of his neck with a resounding  _ smack. _ Havelock stilled against the sharp pain but Lizzy wasn't done there. She grabbed him by the chain, pulling him over, back into his corner, and he whimpered against her every touch. 

“You lying shit hole! Don't think I don't know what your bastard mind was planning, using that girl like anyone else!  _ SIT!” _ She cracked the pole against his shoulder again and the man sat, hard, the welt visible in the low light. He cried before going still and quiet. As soon as he was silent, Lizzy purred at him, petting his head once again. She grabbed the glass of whiskey and then motioned for Daud to follow. 

As soon as the quarter doors were closed, Daud turned an angry grimace towards her. 

“What was  _ that _ for?”

Lizzy downed the whiskey, eyed Daud up and down, her face critical. 

“You're in some serious shit, aren't you, Daud?” Her eyes narrowed, watching Daud's every move. “Havelock hasn't mentioned the Empress or Emily since we picked him up over a month ago. I forgot about it, to be honest. That girl upstairs?” She motioned up with her empty glass. “She's got enemies everywhere. Surprised you ain't one of them.”

“Her allies are few and far between,” Daud agreed. “But I have a plan. She'll be safer than ever.” He clenched his jaw, casting a sobered look at Lizzy. “I'll double my pay if you keep him quiet until this whole ordeal is past us, but you have to promise to let him go when Emily is back in power.”

She blinked, taken aback. She did a double take, then looked around, as if an explanation would appear before her if she willed it strongly enough.

“You care  _ that much? _ About this damn girl and her bastard Protector?”

“I hate to say it, but yes.”

Lizzy ran her tongue over her teeth, mulling over his answer. He could tell she wasn't used to such powerful sincerity, and she waffled on her answer. 

“Fine.  _ Fine. _ Double pay. But you damn better make honest on this kind of a deal, Daud.” 

“I wouldn't dream of doing anything else, Lizzy,” he rumbled back to her, and they ascended back up the stairs together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this. Not really. But it did come up as a whim between Wind and I and I loved it so much I made it wuffie canon, the end.


	9. Gain a Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old prompt from Wind herself over on tumblr: 
> 
>  
> 
> _"pls give me Geoff talking to Corvo openly and frankly about his new abilities where everyone else is still kind of scared of him, Geoff is more wary but not actively intimidated and wants to help."_
> 
> Anything for you, boo. ;*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set sometime after Chapter 14, potentially during (?) Chapter 15, or at least over the duration of the time skip.

Voices whispered in and out of Corvo's head as he dozed, unfocused eyes open, watching the rain hit the Pub windows, catching snippets of conversation here, there, plans weaving together, chatter and banter light, thoughts restless and wandering even as each one flitted past--

“--you listening?” 

The world zoomed back to him and he jerked his head around to the voice. He tensed until his gaze found Geoff sitting across from him in the pub booth. The man straightened in reaction to his too-quick movement, so he eased, letting his lungs deflate, his right shoulder drop.

“Sorry Geoff, I didn't hear you. A lot on the mind.” _Plenty_ _on the mind,_ he thought dourly, and at least three amused responses flitted back to him. Corvo’s eyes looked around the pub for the culprits before settling and clearing his throat. “Could you repeat that?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Geoff said, but his hands fidgeted and he looked away in embarrassment. Corvo frowned, waiting, nearly falling back to the white noise of the Whalers going about their business before Geoff finally, clumsily asked, “does it hurt?”

Corvo tilted his head. 

“Does what hurt? My shoulder?”

“No, no not that--not that I don’t want you feeling better--” he waved a hand, and Corvo watched him curiously. “I mean, you know, when you--” Geoff curled his hands into claws, and made a grimacing face. Corvo's eyebrows shot up. “I don't know what you call it. Transform? Can you control it? If so, does it hurt?”

“Oh,” Corvo responded. Now it was his turn to fidget, to glance away. A Whaler on the bottom floor near their booth twitched before moving on. “Not really. I mean when I can control it, it doesn't hurt. But when I can't, it hurts. A lot.” He paused and thought, reimagining the pain of his ribs break and his skin ripping before finally shaking his head. “I can't describe it in a way you'd be able to understand. Like being dipped into hot wax and then your skin splitting when its pulled off.” 

Geoff gaped. His mouth flapped like a fish before his cheeks went bright red and his fingers drummed against the table. “Apologies Corvo. I didn't want you to relive the pain, just was being curious and I may be more than a little… _ restless.”  _

It was an understandable feeling. With the rains upon them and the Hound Pits Pub filled to the brim with Daud and his Whalers, everyone was going a little stir crazy. Daud  _ assured  _ they’d move into action soon, but nobody was looking to rush him along and Corvo was still in the process of healing, even if his arm was out of it’s sling. 

Corvo  _ hrmmed.  _ “Perhaps try questions that aren't so difficult to swallow? I'm sure you have others.”

Geoff perked back up at that, running a hand over his face. 

“I have a lot, actually. I find it all very fascinating.”

“Fascinating?”

Geoff blinked in confusion. “Of course, who wouldn't be fascinated by men who turn into wolves? I mean, I'm no man of science so I can't even say I'll understand what you respond with but-”

“It's fine, Geoff,” Corvo said, amused, the quirk of a smile forming on his lips. “But I can't guarantee I'll know any question answer.” 

_ “If you don't know, just ask the collective,”  _ a voice offered to Corvo mentally and his eye flicked over, where a Whaler sat at the bar and played with a coin, their mask on and their face anonymous. Whether they spoke to Corvo or not he couldn't be sure, since a few more affirmations bubbled up across the mental connection after the original statement.

“Well, since I asked the awkward question first, I'll ask a more fitting question next: what's it feel like normally? Good? Wild?”

“Feel like? Like, in general?”

Geoff shrugged. “Sure.” 

“Busy,” was his immediate response, and Geoff blinked in confusion. Corvo grimaced, looking for words as the buzz in the back of his skull increased. “That sounds strange, but… everything is  _ more. _ More sights, smells, sounds, mental chatter. It's all--” he motioned to his head, moving a hand hear his ear “--busy. Loud. Overwhelming.”

And it was-- it nearly drove him mad. Now the poison was turned antidote; having and accepting the Whalers as a part of his mental space helped calm the constant need for  _ connection.  _

How much of that he was willing to attribute to the heavy, grounding weight of  _ Daud, _ who was always there, always present... Corvo wasn’t really ready to admit, and not ready to face at all. 

Geoff nodded, eyes wide and fascinated. “Yes, I see, that does make sense. They say hounds have a nose many times more sensitive than ours. But the 'mental chatter’; what's that?”

“The others,” he said, shrugging. “Daud's.”

“They're up there, in your head?”

“Yes, there's a strange mental web that connects them back to Daud and to each other and keeps them all in one large network.”

“And you're in that network now?”

The tickle at this ears was full of amused eavesdropping. “In a way, yes.”

Geoff squinted, before twisting in his seat, eying each Whaler he could find. Then, in a whisper, he asked, “Are they listening in right now?”

Corvo’s lip twitched. “Yes.” 

_ “Bullocks,” _ Geoff said, his voice returning to normal volume as he leaned back and crossed his arms. “They probably all find me quite foolish right now.”

A lot of Whalers expressed their entertainment, with one strong presence in particular showing a bit of fond affection. Corvo just shook his head and pushed them all gently away.

“More endearing, really.” Corvo said, smiling easy for the --  _ Void, _ how many months had it been since he smiled at all? He studied Geoff for a second before continuing “You know, most people are too scared to ask me anything. What's your motivation, inquiring like this? What's your gain?”

Geoff’s brow furrowed. He blinked, bringing his hands together before tilting his own head at Corvo.

“Because, Lord Corvo, I know what it's like to be an outcast, to not be wanted for something I have no control over. And I still remember how much relief I felt when one important person asked me if I was okay and actively tried to reach out and understand.” 

Corvo stared at him. Geoff shrugged. 

“The gain is hopefully a friend, no more, no less.”

Corvo looked him up and down, assessing. He looked open, honest; he  _ smelled _ genuine, forthcoming. Corvo knew his thoughts, even if he didn't intrude on them now. He knew Geoff's name, his history, his age, and the depth of his relationship with Jessamine. 

Slowly, he exhaled.

“I will try and be as good a friend to you as  _ she _ was to the both of us,” Corvo said to Geoff softly. 

The man's whole demeanor changed. He looked away, the weight of loss hitting him hard and all at once. He cleared his throat and blinked away emotion and tears. 

“I appreciate the gesture. If it brings us both peace, I will do my best to extend the same offer.”

Corvo nodded. Geoff laughed, relieved. 

“Excellent, Lord Corvo.”

“Please,” Corvo said, suppressing the growl at the end of the word. “Just Corvo.”

“Of course, Corvo,” he replied, grinning. “Is it okay if I ask a few more questions? I'm on a roll now.”

Corvo smiled easy for the second time that day. 

“Ask away.”


	10. Thomas, Meet Geoff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a few months post _Wolfbann_ , Thomas and Geoff start working together on odd jobs. This is where their friendship starts and where a later relationship grows. 
> 
> Mild Thomas/Geoff, T-rated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I wrote this... wow. Back in MARCH? And I started my werewolf au in February last year, haha. So even a month into the story, I was already planning ahead. I wrote quite a few post-Wolfbann short stories (mostly to the entertainment of Windy and myself) and to be honest knowing how badly I wanted to see them published really helped me finish the first installment. This has aged slightly, but I still like it a lot.

He smelled nervous. 

That was what Thomas first noted, back when he met Geoff Curnow. On that initial meeting though, such an emotional reaction was warranted: meeting a pack of excessively huge whale-wolves of myth was a lot for anyone to take in, especially if it happened within the confines of the Hound Pits bar. Thomas had watched him then, had judged each human individual they had met: and he had been impressed with Geoff's ability to handle the pressure, as well as his ability to follow-through  with Daud's overall plan-- a plan that eventually  _ worked,  _ and put Emily Kaldwin back on the throne. 

That was months ago, though. Daud had been placed as the new Spymaster, with the Whalers grandfathered in as his network of guards and spies. This meant some of them got to spend the days with the Empress and Royal Protector. It also meant some of them spent time abroad. Others still got to work more closely with Curnow, who had been promoted to Commander of the City Watch.

This just happened to be one of Thomas’s first days to work closely with the man himself since they stormed the Tower together. And by the Void, did Geoff  _ reek  _ of nervousness. 

Thomas, for the sake of not making the whole outing awkward, managed a smile. He hoped it didn't come off as creepy; he still wasn't used to not carrying a mask at all times, still wasn't used to people who weren't a part of his established mental network. It seemed to have its intended effect, however. The older man glanced over to Thomas, lips twitching at the edges. 

It was going to be a long day for both of them.

“So,” Geoff started, inhaling deep as if to steady himself. Thomas’ eyes trained on each small movement, his head cocking and inclining lightly -- a learned motion from years spent behind one mask or another that he  _ hoped _ communicated  _ 'I’m here, I’m listening,’ _ but he couldn't always be too sure with normal humans. 

And given how many years it had been since he had counted himself among folks who  _ didn't _ use magic to turn into a giant beast, he was still woefully out of practice with human body language. 

“So, Daud sent you here to basically scout and shadow, if I absorbed enough from the briefing,” Curnow finished. Thomas noted how he stood ramrod straight; the man was a soldier of the royalty, and held himself more stiff than a noble but more elegantly than a commoner. Only the bob of his throat away his insecurities.

“That would be correct,” Thomas followed up, doing his best not to come off as dry as he usually did. Inflection still felt odd on his tongue; his brother Connor is surely laughing at him from  _ somewhere  _ on the rooftops, watching this failed attempt at outward  _ emotion. _ “It's best to know the usual routes around the city and how each precinct behaves and performs. Not that Daud doesn't  _ already know, _ but…”

Geoff raised a surprised eyebrow at Thomas. Thomas trailed off, blinking awkwardly, before realizing exactly what he had implied. 

_ “...but _ there have been a lot of changes, and it doesn't hurt to have a double or triple check,” Thomas added hastily with a nod of his head. “Competency in the Watch has certainly gone up in the last couple of months, and surely it's due to your superior command.”

Geoff rolled his eyes and for a split second, his elite soldier status fell with his shoulders before straightening back up again. Thomas watched the motion carefully, quietly cataloging the scent that followed it: no longer hanging pungent with anxiety, he now instead held the ease of seafoam and aged wood, of sunlight and steady rain. 

“You know you don't have to flatter me, Thomas,” Curnow responded, sounding beleaguered. “I know the business you and your... _ employer _ are in, I know what you did before the young Empress brought you here to work for the Tower. Of  _ course  _ he knew all the old patterns of rotation for the guards of the City Watch.”

“I'm sorry, I meant no offense,” Thomas muttered out, looking away and scanning the rooftops out of habit. Next to him, Curnow let out a soft laugh. When a soft backhand landed on his arm, Thomas brought his attention back in time to see Geoff motioning for him to follow. 

“I promise you, Thomas, there was no harm done. I've endured much worse than being told I'm bad at my job.” They walked down the main entrance to the Tower together, stopping just outside the main gates as Curnow fished for his keys. “Besides,” he said pointedly, “the truth of the matter is that I already think I'm bad at my position, which is how I'm constantly improving.”

There was a wry undercurrent to his tone, a sense of defeatism that was followed by quiet triumph: Thomas got the sense that Curnow thought lowly of his own abilities, but prided in beating the odds all the same.

“I can see why Corvo appointed you to this position,” Thomas reported back, watching as the taller man opened the door and led them outside. Curnow scoffed in response, but Thomas still caught how each guard smiled and waved, how each coworker was greeted by name, how Geoff took time for each of them, even with a guest in tow. 

As soon as they were away from the station and moving towards their intended ride, Thomas couldn't help but voice his thoughts.

“They respect you,” he said plainly, and Geoff jerked to a stop, surprised by Thomas’s frankness. He turned to face Thomas, his eyes filled with a strange emotion -- as if he wasn't used to such open honesty. 

“I mean-- of course they do, I'm their boss,” Geoff detracted, swiftly downgrading himself again. Thomas frowned. “They put on a face when I come in, they have to be on their best behavior, or--”

“No,” Thomas said, cutting him off not unkindly. “No, Geoff, I can smell that sort of deceit, it's part of-- you know what i mean,” Thomas shook his head and waved a hand dismissively. “Just know they were all truly happy to see you. You're part of their family. It's respect, yes, but it's bred out of interest, not job obligation.” 

Geoff swallowed, fingers twitching around the keyring still in his hand. 

“You know that just from that small interaction?” His voice was so much quieter now, so much smaller, as if such… such  _ praise _ was uncharacteristic, even for a man of his position and caliber. Thomas’s frown deepened. 

“Of course I do,” Thomas said flatly. “And you know it too, so there's no point in  _ not _ accepting it.” 

Geoff swallowed again, his face curiously flush as he looked away. “Thank you,” he said finally. “It's nice to know their respect is recognizable.”

“Your work so far has been nothing but commendable.” 

Geoff wrinkled his nose, his tone suddenly sharp. “You're very intense, you know.”

Thomas blinked. He straightened: even at his full height, he was still a good three inches short of being at eye level with Curnow. 

“I apologize. I can dial it back if you want. Or soften up, I don't always notice when I'm being too hard on someone and--”

“No, please I didn't mean it like that,” Geoff said, waving his hand impatiently. “I’m just stating an impression. To be frank, it's an enjoyable change of pace.”

Thomas’ eyes darted around again. The tingle at the back of his neck  _ told  _ him Connor was listening in and  _ smirking _ like the bastard that he was, but Thomas ignored him. 

What he  _ couldn't _ ignore was the way Geoff was watching him.

“I feel like you must keep some odd company, Curnow.”

Geoff rolled his eyes and walked off to their carriage, his posture much more relaxed though still tight and alert.

“I have to deal with nobles, Thomas. A  _ lot _ of nobles.”

“Well, I can assure you I will be nothing of the sort,” Thomas told him, following behind. Geoff let out a soft laugh.

“If that's true, this day is going to be a good deal more enjoyable than I originally imagined.”

Thomas watched him carefully climbing into the lift, reading every movement and motion with eased practice and a trained eye. He caught the fluid motion of Curnow’s hands, the swing of his hips as he pulled himself into the lift, the shine of his eye as he caught Thomas staring. 

Something in Thomas’s chest shifted and suddenly  _ he _ was the one feeling nervous and vulnerable. 

He managed a smirk all the same. Geoff met it in kind.

“Indeed,” Thomas agreed. “I'm sure this will be an easy partnership today.” 


	11. Empress Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cute, small piece Windsweptfic did that is post-Wolfbann.
> 
> The twins, snuggling with Emily. 500 words.

There was a Whaler in Lady Emily's room.

That wasn't unusual, in itself. They usually stood outside the door of her chambers, but during times of high alert Daud would station one or two of them inside with her. That they were shifted into wolf form and laying atop her bed wasn't surprising, either; the young Empress was damnably adept at coaxing her furred caretakers into warming her toes on particularly cold nights.

What _was_ odd was the fact that the Whaler in question was _Thomas._

Connor slipped into the room with a whisper of Void, reappearing at the foot of the bed with his head cocked to one side. His twin was stretched out atop the blankets, amber fur held tight in two small fists, Emily curled around him like he was an oversized stuffed toy. Thomas' eyes gleamed in the dark, watching Connor from where he had his muzzle resting atop Emily's head.

 _"Well, this is adorable,"_ Connor observed, the words passed between the Bond in order to not wake the slumbering Empress.

Thomas huffed.

 _"She couldn't sleep,"_ he replied, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. _"And I was on watch duty tonight."_

 _"Of course,"_ Connor demurred. Thomas liked to pretend that he was completely immune to Emily's wide eyes and bright smile, but he--just like the rest of the Whalers, just like Connor and even Daud himself--was wrapped around her tiny little finger just as securely as her father was.

Thomas sighed resignedly.

" _Just get over here. She's starting to get cold and I can't put the blanket on her like this."_

Connor grinned--but instead of addressing the blanket issue as Thomas wanted, he just shifted into his wolf form, bounded up onto the bed and flopped down on Emily's other side.

 _"That is_ not _what I meant--"_

"Whossat?" Emily mumbled sleepily. She twisted her head to blink at him, and it was only then that Connor saw the melancholic exhaustion on her face. "Connor?"

Connor considered for a moment.

Then he leaned forward and licked a long, wet stripe across her cheek.

"Connor!" Emily squealed as she shoved him away. She scrubbed her face with the blanket, giggling. "Eww, gross!"

Connor let his tongue loll out in a grin--only to have his face pinned against the mattress as Thomas reached over Emily to shove his twin's head down with one heavy paw.

 _"Sleep,"_ Thomas rumbled threateningly to them both. Emily caught Connor's gaze and snickered as he rolled his eyes at her; she squirmed around so that she could curl up between them both more securely. Her fingers dug into the fur at the back of Connor's neck and he let out a quiet _whuff,_ nudging at her palm until she scratched him lazily behind his ears.

 _"You have absolutely no shame,"_ Thomas informed him across the Bond as Emily yawned.

Connor scoffed as she buried her nose into his fur.

 _"As if you don't want_ pets _from a certain officer of the Watch--"_

" ** _Sleep_**."


	12. Trusting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is post-Wolfbann, about mid to late Month of Ice. Corvo is still having transforming issues. Combined with night terrors, its not a fun time. Luckily, Daud is around to get him through it. 
> 
> Corvo/Daud, T-rated, about 2000 words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually a lot earlier in the timeline, mostly because I didn't expect to push back Corvo and Daud's relationship like I did in the fic. OH WELL. It's not a slow burn unless it's slow. This chapter also helped me finish Wolfbann, because I really loved writing this little window into their relationship.

Daud didn't expect to be shocked awake by roiling emotions and an elbow in his ribs, but that certainly got the job done. He grunted as he opened his eyes, ready to shove back against the sleepy assault, but as the body next to him spasmed and flinched and  _ cried,  _ his annoyance faded fast, with worried curiosity replacing it.

“Corvo?” 

It was a whispered question-- but as Daud rolled over to face the other man, he knew instantly that Corvo wouldn't be able to respond. He spat out a curse and threw the blankets in his scramble to get a closer look.

Corvo was  _ heaving,  _ his body rippling uncontrollably. Fur rolled down his back like the flow of the tide, growing and receding as his body curled and contorted. Daud could hear the bones cracking in Corvo's chest as they fought against skin and muscle, wanting to grow but having nowhere to go, like a plant whose pot was far too small for its spreading roots. The scars on the back of his arms  _ burned,  _ the magic concealed just under the damaged skin billowing off as smoke and Void that threatened to consume Corvo's body, even in sleep. Corvo himself was already twice his normal size in places: his arms lengthened and his back arched, heavy with muscle corded over muscle. The loud whine his gnarled mouth produced was enough to have Daud's thoughts running on instinctive  _ panic.  _

Luckily Daud knew what to do; even when his instincts were in overdrive, his body  _ yearning  _ to turn alongside Corvo, he knew how to suppress the urge, stay  _ sane _ . During the day, Corvo knew how to do this too, with his conscious mind present and accounted for. But here, in the lonely torture of night terrors, he had no idea his very dreams were shifting into a reality. 

Daud wasted no time surging his mind and body against Corvo, the mark on his own hand glowing hot with arcane ability, his scars burning as his own magic activated upon reaching out and setting a palm on Corvo's hot, jagged arms.

_ Painpainstopmakeitstop _

Daud's mind made contact with Corvo's and nearly whiplashed back out. The emotional torture of his partner's thoughts were mired a maelstrom, the wind of it cutting and hard to fight through. Daud snapped his lengthening teeth together, pushing against the gale of Corvo's thoughts, fighting through contorted and twisted memory, the likes only a Void-stricken mind could dream up. On the exterior, Daud held on, his own marked magic doing it's best to help contain the blistering amount of Void leaking from Corvo, causing his breaking body.

_ “Corvo,” _ Daud said carefully, brushing against his twisted mind in soothing waves. He could feel Corvo shudder against him; when Daud physically leaned in closer and Corvo didn't pull away, he considered it progress. _ “Corvo, calm down. This dream isn't real but out here, your body really is destroying itself.”  _

Daud had seen this condition before. He'd seen his own dreams manifest into horrible reality as his body fought between man and monster. He'd seen it with the Whalers, on a lesser extent, where they'd wake themselves screaming, not knowing why their bodies had transformed overnight. Daud was always there for them, soothing their stormy dreams, bringing them back to one bodily reality or another. 

Corvo Attano, however, was on another level. Worse than Daud, far worse than the Whalers. Five months since Coldridge, three since Emily returned to the throne and Burrows’ execution and still, Corvo's night terrors persisted. Not that Daud could blame him, after dealing with Jessamine, then two months of torture, then being marked and the hunt for Emily afterwards --

Corvo spasmed and Daud focused, cutting off that line of thought. He clenched his jaw down and clung on, even as Corvo's body seized and  _ cracked _ underneath him. 

_ “Corvo, come back,” _ he whispered in his ear over the hurricane of his mind. _ “Please, Corvo, don't let this dream become you.”  _

_ Can’t-- _ Was the all consuming reply.  _ Cantcantcantcantcant-- _

Daud growled and pressed further into Corvo's mind. He knew his magic and his ability could drown Corvo's thoughts if necessary, but he wanted  _ \-- needed -- _ Corvo to overcome this on his own. As his reassurance washed over the connection, the body under Daud's claws stilled.

_ “Yes you can,” _ Daud purred over the strained connection. _ “I’m here with you and that's real. You aren't being tortured in the waking world anymore.”  _

The wolf of Corvo's mind was always a wild, ragged thing; more like Corvo post-Coldridge than he was now, all muscle and sleek power and shining eyes and fur. The power of Daud washed over the panicking wolf, causing it to shudder and bow. 

In their shared mindscape, Daud tilted his own furred head. 

_ “This isn't you, Corvo. This isn't the chamber where you transformed.” _ He blinked slow and took a step forward.  _ “Come back to me.” _

_ “But the pain…” _

_ “Is just a figment of your mind and it's making your magic overload.” _

Corvo blinked, gaining awareness. Around him, the wind died down, the smell of panic lessened, and Daud's ears flicked forward hopefully. 

_ “A dream…” _

_ “Yes,” _ Daud continued, relief flowing through the connection as he took another step towards Corvo.  _ “One of your night terrors. The ones I promised to help pull you out of--” _

_ “Because nobody pulled you out of yours,” _ Corvo finished for him. 

A strange warmth bloomed in Daud's chest at the memory of their conversation. His head nodded, hopeful. 

_ “Yes, exactly. You aren't alone for this, Corvo. I’m here.” _ He pushed the hot affection across the bond and into Corvo's mind, reaffirming and reassuring. _ “I'm here, I'm not going anywhere.”  _

The wolf of Corvo's mind wasted no time closing the gap between them, nose burying into the fur of Daud's neck. Appreciation was thrown back at Daud and he inhaled, finally opening his eyes and returning to reality. He was still clinging to Corvo, still holding his body close, but Corvo was back to normal now. His body no longer stretched beyond its limits, Daud's nose sank into the warm, clammy skin at the base of Corvo's skull, a stark contrast to rippling fur and spasming muscles. 

Daud breathed out, stilled to silence at the intensity of the respect filling him from head to toe and pooling heavily in his gut. A hand appearing over his was enough to shake him out of his stupor. 

“Daud,” Corvo whispered, finally awake. “Thank you.” Relief flooded Daud, drowning out his writhing worry. Daud exhaled, pulling Corvo even closer, drinking in the smell of him. Under him, Corvo's body shook slowly as he coughed out a laugh.  _ Void, _ he sounded tired.

“Better?” Daud asked, gruff voice muffled by skin and sleepiness. Corvo sagged back against him and nodded his head. 

“Better.” The hand on Daud's squeezed. “Definitely better.” 

“It's been awhile since it was that bad.” Daud whispered back, adjusting his hold. As he did so, Corvo made a sound that could only be likened to a  _ purr. _ Daud felt his insides flip. 

“About two months,” Corvo agreed, his body slicked with sweat and weak from exertion. Under Daud's arm, his chest rose and fell heavily. “I thought I was past this.”

Daud hummed into his hair, the sweat of it making Corvo's scent cling all the stronger. It was a familiar smell, one that Daud already categorized as  _ home. _

“It can take a while,” Daud reminded him. “And everyone adjusts and recovers at their own pace.”

“Two years, right?”

“I don't think it will take that long for you, Attano.”

Corvo turned. Daud could just see his eye in the dark, watching him carefully.

“No, for you. Isn't that how long it took for you to-- well--”

Painful memories bubbled up that threatened to cross over the bond and into Corvo's unsuspecting headspace. Daud stamped them down and cleared his throat; Corvo watched him with a frown.

“It did. Because nobody else was there. I had a lot of mishaps in my early years I don't want you to repeat.”

“When will you tell me?” Corvo was being petulant now and Daud glared at him venemously, trying to kill Corvo's curiosity. 

“When you're  _ over it.” _ Daud rumbled back. “You already have enough bad memories associated me, I don't need you to think of me any worse than  _ that.” _

“Hey,” Corvo said, softer now. His thoughts brushed his, warm blues and yellows, just like the trim of his new Royal Protector vest. A hand rested on Daud’s neck, thumb brushing his cheek. He leaned into the touch and affection bloomed bright across their bond. 

“You know I don't think of you like that. And I'm sorry I pried. Tell me when you're ready.”

“I'm more worried about  _ you _ being ready,” Daud confessed, closing his eyes. He had only a moment to sense his space being invaded before soft lips brushed his and he responded in kind. Heat flared between them and something else beneath that, a strong smolder that lingered even after the initial flare died down. Daud pulled away, clearing his throat again as Corvo huffed out a laugh. 

“You worry too much, Daud,” Corvo said, voice thick and playful. He patted Daud's cheek before stealing another kiss and pulling his body away. Daud watched him settle back down on the bed. 

“Says the  _ Royal Protector,”  _ Daud mused, admiring Corvo before settling back down himself. A warm arm snaked around his middle and Daud rumbled out in satisfaction. He could feel Corvo's smile at his neck and Daud's skin prickled in response.

“Well, for now, I'm fine. Thanks to you, Spymaster.” Corvo nuzzled in, already too warm. Daud scoffed and moved to push him away; Corvo didn't budge, his grin spreading. 

“Go to sleep, Attano,” he snarled out. “And make sure to get a shower in the morning. You reek.”

“Good or bad?” Corvo asked, and Daud didn't need to turn around to see the coy smirk playing across Corvo's undoubtedly smug face. Heat coiled in his gut again but Daud still managed to groan in exasperation.

“You're the reason I'm awake,” he mumbled out, annoyed. “Can you at least allow me to go back to sleep?”

Corvo laughed softly but didn't press further. Instead he left Daud to his sleepy interests but not before leaning over and catching Daud's mouth with his one more time. Daud let himself melt into it, into the contrast of Corvo's soft lips and persistent stubble. Appreciation gently passed between them.

“Thank you again,” Corvo murmured back. “I mean it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Daud mumbled, but he soaked in the sentiment just the same. A small  _ you're welcome _ was sent across the bond and Corvo hummed, satisfied. 

It didn't take Corvo long to sink back into the rhythm of sleep now that the terror of his previous dream had passed upon waking. Daud, however, lingered, listening to the even breathing of the man next to him. He carefully sat up, doing his best to not disturb Corvo’s slumber any more than it already had been. 

Daud sighed. 

Four episodes. 

Four episodes in so many months wasn't bad. The intensity was surprising, but not unexpected. It left Daud lingering more on the emotions Corvo sent his way after every bout instead. The gratitude, the overwhelming admiration and  _ trust…  _

His fist clenched and unclenched, the magic of the mark a constant itch. He put a hand on Corvo's back, feeling the comfortable, sleepy rumble under his fingers. Daud smiled. 

“Thank  _ you,” _ he whispered in Corvo's ear  before finally choosing to settle down, pull Corvo close, and return to the peace of a dreamless sleep. 


End file.
